Adamantine
by xfidelity
Summary: Nica never knew of pain or loss until the day her throat was slit; and she was sentenced to a life aboard the Dutchman.
1. Preface

Preface

**Prologue**

Just as I sent a warning to my feet to help me stand and run, a pair of cold hands quickly grabbed my arms and snapped them behind my back. I jerked violently in every direction, but nothing was breaking the creature's iron grasp. He grunted and kicked me, pushing me towards the line of bloodied survivors. I began to scream maniacally. I didn't care what they thought of me. I wanted to get far, far away from them, all of them, all of the ugly bastards. But my strength was no match for the creature's enormous muscles and towering height.

There were eight survivors including me, eight survivors with a monstrous creature holding them tightly, enjoying their attempt to escape. I saw it in their cruel eyes, the way they watched their victim writher and scream. They drank in their cries like liquid gold. Their pale mouths turned up in awful sneers as I was forced to my knees. _Oh, god, this isn't happening…_

It had fallen silent. My sobs quieted to small gasps as tears streamed down my face. I choked on my spit and swallowed it with disgust. The men beside me, who I had gotten to know and enjoy during the past few weeks, were shaking and sobbing quietly along with me. The rest of the monstrous crew silenced their laughter and shouts. They now watched with extreme interest and jealously; they weren't quick enough to nab one of us.

I felt something cold gently graze the skin of my neck. I dropped my eyes and saw it was a sharp silver blade. I swear to the Gods my heart stopped beating at that moment. An awful darkness filled me, a darkness of dread and unbearable shock. My mind froze. I couldn't process a single thought .There was no air left my lungs and I simply stared at the blade that hugged my neck with wide eyes and an open mouth. _This isn't supposed to happen to me…_

My heart began to beat again; this time at a rapid pace. The flow of tears continued to stream down my face. I let out whimpers and cries like I used to do when I was a child. I felt the creature behind me pull my head back slightly at an angle. The blade began to dig into my neck a little. I felt a pair of warm, soft lips graze gently over my ear.

"It'll all be over in a minute." A deep voice whispered.

"Say your last prayers." The Captain shouted. Below him sat Peter on his knees, with his chest held high and his eyes looking down at the floor. His lips moved slowly as he recited his final prayer. The Captain grasped Peter's shoulder and held his sword to Peter's neck. The Captain then took the liberty to glare at every single one of us, shaking his head as his mouth twitched, tempted to turn up into a smile.

His eyes landed on me. At first I averted my eyes and squeezed them shut. But for some reason, I opened them and glared right back at the man. My brown eyes met his black eyes. We stared, my eyes full of emotions that I couldn't describe, his full of anger and distaste. He averted his eyes and spat towards me. I felt a strange sort of accomplishment.

My lips began to move silently, my words barely audible to even my ears.

"Goodbye father, Mary, Anne, Peter…" I whispered. I heard the men beside me mumble their last goodbyes along with me.

_Maybe I'll see mother…_

I heard a silent amen from the man next to me. In less than a second the dagger met his flesh and blood poured onto the deck. I let out a gasp and wanted to turn my head to see who the poor soul was, but I felt the creature's knee get shoved into my chest.

"Don't look." He whispered. I obeyed and continued my prayer.

_Mother, can you hear me? Are you up there? _

Another amen. Another thrust, another _slosh_, another drop.

_Mother, I'm scared. Why is this happening to me…?_

The next amen was shaky, but it was heard.

_Mary and Anne will never know what happened to me. _

Amen from someone down the line, a strong and sure one.

_And Father, oh god…what'll he think?_

The other's prayers were finished and I heard the familiar reunion of the blade to the flesh as the sailor's life's ended. I found myself to be the last one standing. I was alone, with the creature behind me grasping my hair back tightly. I felt the cold eyes of the crew on me, holding their breath and biting their lips, watching, waiting…

I took one last look at Peter. His eyes were red and swollen. He looked so tired, so destroyed. He saw me and let out a small choking sound.

_I love you, Peter…_

"And from this day, f-forever and ever…_amen_." I said, letting my breath slowly leave my lungs, one last time.

The creature's blade was pulled closer to my neck. I felt its pressure, and a twinge of burning pain beginning. I let out a moan and choked down a sob

"One, two…" the creature said, pulling the blade closer. The pain increased and I began to fell warm blood fall down my neck and onto my dress.

As the word "three" danced on his lips, I saw the Captain lift his sword a few feet away, his eyes on me and only me; and brought it down onto Peter's chest. It glided right through his frame and I saw Peter fall, his eyes still open as the blade pierced his heart.

I would have screamed if the blade didn't claim my neck first.

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	2. By the Fountain

Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The Wrine mansion was certainly the finest in all of Port Indigo. The Wrine family, one of true English blue bloods with a family tree that had roots digging deep into England's history, took great pride in their sprawling estate; for they knew there was no other family who could accomplish such elegance and royalty in the new Caribbean port. Besides the enormous house, with enough hired help to begin a small port of there own and an annual income of unspeakable amounts, the greatest treasure of the massive home was no doubt the southern courtyard. Along its pathway was a grand fountain that had no superior. It was carved from fine gray stone by six of the greatest sculptures ever to live in the Wrine's era.

The fountain's theme was the sea. At it's climax sat a circle of beautiful mermaids, their flowing hair and heavenly figures so beautifully crafted it looked as if you could reach out and you would feel their soft hair and supple skin. The stone mermaids were supporting their queen, where water came bursting out of her cupped hands. And on the base of the priceless fountain is where Mary Wrine, Anne Wrine and I, Veronica Landers sat with our feet dangling into the fountains limpid, cool water on a quiet, July evening.

"Last night I was at the point of desperation where I was debating whether I should stab my hand with my salad fork or drown myself in the beef stew." Mary Wrine said with a horrible moan.

"Oh shut it, you drama princess. I thought you said you were excited for that outing." Anne Wrine said. Anne placed a hand over her head to block the sinking sun from her eyes. She turned to her sister and cocked an eyebrow suspiciously. Mary growled and kicked her feet around in the water.

"When I was introduced to Mr. Amule, he seemed perfectly admirable. But last night was a nightmare. Oh, Nica, you would have had a fit of laughter just watching him, let alone listening to our conversations." Mary wined, turning to me.

"Well, what did he talk about?" I asked calmly, pulling my wet feet out of the water. I stretched them out onto the cool stone of the fountain and lay down, basking in the last bit of light from the sunset. I let the cool night breeze play with my fiery hair and dance all over my pale skin.

"Well, he spoke about his father's business, which was actually quite interesting. His father and his uncle are owners of the Amule-Baker shipping company, which was one of the first to bring goods from the ports in England to the Caribbean. Actually, this port was the first to trust Amule-Baker with their goods…" Mary gushed, clasping her hands together.

As she continued on with her story of the brilliant and bright Henry Amule, I began to tune out. I looked out into the garden, where huge flowers were planted with colors that couldn't be explained. The large tropical trees danced in the night breeze, swaying in time to the soft gusts that ran through its leaves. Beyond the trees was the iron gate, standing guard with a non-nonsense attitude. The black and cold iron was in sharp contrast with the delicate flowers of the garden.

But the best treat of the courtyard garden was the view beyond the gate; the ocean. The dark blue water was cradling the deep red sun, slowly letting her slip away. Purple, red and blue clouds watched in awe. Ships on the water rocked in time with the breeze that blew again, humming softly as their old wood creaked against the waves. I sighed deeply as the cool breeze blew past me. I let my eyes close and felt the warm sun slowly sink into the water, feeling its heat gently glide off me. I let myself enjoy this moment of pure bliss.

I imagined seeing the sunset by the fountain every single night. The thought of it gave me chills. But I knew it would never happen, for this would be my last Caribbean sunset. Tomorrow afternoon I would be dragged upon a ship that would take me back to my home in England, far away from Mary and Anne. I opened my eyes and felt the numbness in my ears disappear. I was listening to Mary's story again.

"…I'm not being over dramatic, Anne, if that's what you're thinking. It was so dull being with him that the maids didn't take any pleasure in eavesdropping, so _there_." Mary said sharply. Anne burst into laughter and I joined in with a mock smile and a chuckle, as if I knew why I should find Mary's date humorous…

"Men like Mr. Amule are so _strange_." Anne said quietly, smiling down at her watery reflection in the fountain.

"Men in _general _are strange." Mary retorted. Anne and Mary looked to me, waiting for a reply.

"Nica, any commentary to add?" Mary asked. I let out a sigh and sat up. I cleared my throat and let a smile spread across my face.

"Men are so…_stupid_." I said flatly. Anne and Mary laughed together while I rose from my spot by the fountain.

"I'm serious! They act so pleasant and charming around women, but they're just like those actors on the stages back in England; they're just putting on a big show to fool the audience." I said crossly.

"Oh come now Nica, not all men are stupid." Mary said with a giggle.

"Everyone has their flaws." Anne said quietly as she dried her feet with the end of her dress and slid her shoes back onto her feet.

"What is this, Mrs. Pettigrew's class on Human Frailty? Men are born with a dominate flaw, and that is that they are completely brain missing in a situation where they are surrounded by the opposite sex. All of that manliness is a joke. Whenever a man comes up to speak with you, watch his eyes. They'll dart from your face to your chest to the woman behind you. His ears will turn bright pink and he'll smirk at you as if he is superior, but really he is about to drop dead onto your bosom." I huffed. Mary and Anne burst into hysterics, their eyes squinted and their mouths opened wide.

"Well…" Anne said as she wiped away stray tears.

"You and your gentlemen, Nica! God knows how many have confronted you." Mary said, shaking her head. I smiled and pretended not to feel the blush on my cheek that was getting close to matching the color of my hair.

"Miss. Maryanne, Miss. Annabel, Miss. Veronica, my pardons!" Said a young gardener with flushed cheeks who had suddenly appeared before us.

"Yes?" Anne asked the young boy.

"Mrs. Wrine just ran into me, and probably would have sent a maid to call on you, but I was available so I…erm, anyway, she has called on the three of you. She wishes to meet you in the hallway in two hours time. She said be dressed for company." The boy said quickly. His eyes were darting furiously and he had his hands clasped behind his back.

"If you could get the information on who will be attending I would be most pleased." Mary said sharply in reply. The boy nodded eagerly and ran off into the direction of the house. We watched him go and giggled.

"You were right." Anne mumbled with a smile.

We gathered our belongings off the fountain and began to walk up the garden path to the house. As we neared the house I noticed the large amount of servants rushing to and fro, readying the home for company.

"Must be a big deal tonight." I noted quietly. Anne nodded.

"It's quite last minute. But then again, mother loves to torture us so…oh, _dammit_! Nica, I'm sorry…" Mary exclaimed suddenly. I looked down at the floor and tired to fake a smile.

"Don't worry, Mary, its fine." I said quietly.

"No, it's not! You requested for an evening alone with just the three of us for your last night! Oh I'm going to _murder_ mother, _murder_…" Mary seethed.

"No, Mary, your mother has done so much for me; don't upset her. Besides, it's too late now." I said with a reassuring smile. Mary looked at me with wide eyes and sighed. She didn't reply, but I saw her knuckles going white from making two tight fists. The three of us walked into the house with our faces down

"Miss. Maryanne, I have the information you requested!" the young boy called to us as he came bustling into the hallway.

"Oh, right; who will be dining with us tonight?" Mary asked without stopping. We walked up the stairway with the boy trotting behind us.

"Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg…" the boy began.

"Oh god, not those old cows!" Anne cried, shaking her head with distaste.

"…Captain Charles Whest, Mrs. Whest and their son Peter…"

At this my heart skipped and beat and my face became flushed. _Peter_ was coming. Mary and Anne both looked at me and grinned at my flushed face. I tried to hide my blush behind my hair but it was useless. Mary began to hum quietly as Anne giggled.

"Shut it." I snapped at them, but my tone wasn't convincing.

We reached the top of the stairway and began to walk down the hall to Mary and Anne's room. We entered it and the boy glided in after us with a huge smile on his face. He had probably never entered a ladies bedroom before. Anne and I walked over towards the ottoman, where a pile of dresses had been laid out for the three of us to try on. I ran my hand over the beautiful dresses and felt a smile crawl across my cheeks.

"…And Mr. Michael Amule, Mrs. Amule and their son Henry." the boy finalized.

"NO!" Mary shrieked. I gasped at her cry and looked over at her with alarm. She stood stunned with her mouth dropped open and her eyes wide. Her cheeks turned bright red and her hand became balled into fists once again.

"I knew this was going to happen, I _knew_ it! Mother wouldn't even think to ask me, of course not, not her own daughter…" Mary rattled furiously, pacing around the room. She kicked her ottoman and sent the pile of dresses flying across the room. Anne shrieked.

"You don't understand how happy my parents are with Mr. Amule. They_ love_ him; adore him, kissed the damned earth he walks on! They can't stop talking to me about him. And just yesterday before his carriage arrived mother asked me what I thought…of a possible engagement. But I had no idea they meant it to be so soon." Mary whispered frantically. Anne gasped and I jumped back, throwing a hand over my heart.

"Mary, no…"

"Yes."

I was stunned. Mary was always one for romance and I could never see her settling down so early, and with someone she feels so uncomfortable around. As much as I loved Mr. and Mrs. Wrine, this was pushing it too far.

"I won't let mother do it, Mary, I wont…" Anne began, grasping her sister's hand. Mary closed her eyes and shook her head sorrowfully.

"Anne…what could we possibly do?" she asked hopelessly.

I watched the two of them gaze at each other. The two sisters were very different; Mary, proper, beautiful, warm and soft. She had beautiful blond locks like her mother, a soft round face with beautiful blue eyes, and a breathtaking figure. Anne, clumsy, lanky, petite and naïve, with bland brown hair, soft curves and blunt grey eyes. But the two romance novel devourers admired their fiction heroes and heroines more than anything. They both shared the longing for love, the feeling of satisfaction and relief to find the perfect man that the characters they loved achieved. And now they both felt a heavy weight on their shoulders, knowing Mary was about to loose her only hope and joy in the world; the hope for the perfect husband.

I walked over to Mary and sat at her feet.

"It's not fair. Not a crueler crime could be done upon you. I swear to you Mary I won't let this happen. I will find a way to get you out of this, I don't care how." I said strongly. I took her hand in mine and squeezed it. Her watery blue eyes looked down at me.

"You're going to be light-years away from me tomorrow." She said shaking her head.

"Then I'll need to work fast." I said with a small smile. Mary sighed and wiped away her tears. She looked over at Anne and then back to me. She gave me a long gaze and finally let go. She inhaled deeply.

"I trust you." She said quietly. I stood and kissed her forehead.

"Let's call upon the maids and prepare for tonight. I'll think up a plan while I ready myself."

**xxxx**

**Okay. I know what you're thinking. This sounds like a story about some girl, about to be married, and someone needs to come to her rescue and whisk her away… a certain pirate, who will kidnap her and take her away and blah, blah, blah…I swear on the computer I'm typing on that it's not what it looks like. A few chapters from now this story is going to take a sharp swerve off the road…or more like a plunge off a cliff. Please review, leave you're comments, I'd really appreciate it. Thank you.**


	3. Preparations

No reviews, yet; I'm in no rush, but a small comment no matter how small never hurts

**Thanks my two reviewers: much obliged. I have nothing better to do this dull, summer day, so I thought I'd go on and work on this for a bit. Continuing on….**

**Chapter 2**

During the two hours we had to ready ourselves for the unexpected company, few words were exchanged between Mary, Anne and I. We readied ourselves in silence, not looking up from our bureaus as the maids of the house elaborately dressed our hair and painted our faces.

I watched Ima, a fresh, young island girl, gently brush through my unruly hair with milk and nectar. As she attempted to patiently unknot my curls, I cast my eyes towards Mary, who sat in a chair about ten feet away. I felt a sudden urge to leap up from the chair and embrace her: she looked absurdly miserable. I watched her in the mirror as she observed her fingernails, never lifting her eyes. She knew I was feigning to communicate with her. It was obvious she wasn't in the mood for talking.

I saw the elder maid who was styling Mary's hair cluck at her in envy. The maid ran her thin, bony fingers through Mary's long blond locks, pulling down the baby hairs to perfect the cascade of golden perfection. She finished pinning Mary's hair in some strange, intriguing style before dusting her face with makeup. Instantly, Mary went from a blithe, young girl to a beautiful young woman: all with a little help from the eye paint and powder. The maid continued to shower her with compliments; her impeccably soft skin, her large eyes, her dimples, her fruitful lips. I watched with curiosity and resentment.

Ima saw me gazing at my friend longingly. She made a soft shushing noise and patted my head.

"Some women on dis island would sell der most precious family jewels for locks like these." Ima said, taking a fist full of my red curls. I smiled at her politely, knowing she was trying to ease my pain.

She gently twisted, pulled and pinned my long red curls back into a chignon. I watched my fiery red hair disappear behind my head, morphing into a delicate blossom. Ima tried hard to pin back the short curls that stuck out, but they bit back at her gentle hands and spat out the pins. Ima sighed and let them be free. I looked into the mirror and frowned at the stray curls. The chignon looked fine with them, but I was secretly wishing for once they could obey, and I could look like a proper girl whose hair wasn't so curly. Ima smiled, proud of her work, and went to wash her hands before beginning my makeup.

I saw my refection in the mirror gazing curiously back. I hadn't looked in a mirror for quite some time now. I had done very little primping during my time at the Wrine's, except for small outings and weekend parties. I didn't need to check my hair or apply makeup or groom my eyebrows in the company of the Wrine's. They had grown to respect and even love me without seeing me painted.

I tried to remember what I looked like before I arrived in the Caribbean, so long ago. The picture in my head did not match my mirror image. This girl, no, "young woman", before me was a stranger to my eyes.

The girl's long oval face with a strong defined chin was strange looking, but at a certain angle looked quite lovely; certainly from her father, with his proper English facial structure. Her lips were pale and thin with little lust. Peach colored freckles were splattered across her face, covering everywhere from her hairline to her eyelids to her lips. I tried to smile at the girl, and she imitated my action. I observed her little white teeth; at least they were aligned properly, unlike many other unfortunate women nowadays.

I frowned and chewed at my lip. I knew well that these were features very unsuited for an English woman. Ever since I was a little girl I'd been aware of the disdain for my freckles and long hair, and was often mistaken for an Irish girl. I felt an urge to pull my curls out of the chignon and align them over my face to hide my awkwardness, but I controlled myself. Poor Ima put so much effort into the rat's nest I was stuck with.

Suddenly, I noticed something in the mirror. The girl before me had a flicker of hope for her plain being. I noticed the girl's eyes. Ah yes, the eyes were quite lovely. I smiled at the girl who had begun to blush. Of course she smiled back.

My huge, dark brown eyes were lined with thick black lashes and were accentuated by thick brows. They were beautiful and richly colored, reminding me of coffee beans and dark velvet. Their size and color were very uncommon; they were a rare treat among the light pallets of other Englishwomen's eyes. They were the one part of me that did not require makeup to look beautiful.

I smirked at my reflection and shook my head a little. My poor father had been questioned on my eyes and my hair ever since I was brought to his home in England. My smile faded. I looked away from the mirror, feeling a sudden twinge of guilt nip at me.

_My eyes are the reason my father is seen as an unholy man _I thought to myself. A sinking feeling began to bubble in my stomach. My head became heavy and I squeezed my eyes shut, as if I were trying to blink them off my face.

_My downfall, in a guise as a sliver of beauty…_

I let out a sneeze as Ima began to dust my face with powder. I blinked hard, coming back to reality and attempting to drain the dust from my eyes. I tried to keep my lips dry as she covered my entire face, putting a large amount of effort into the erasing of my freckles. Her efforts were not beneficial. She sighed and removed the powder, saying I looked like a piece of powered dough. I giggled a little at that.

I glanced back over at Mary once again. Her eyes were now lined with soft gray coal and light blue powder. I glanced at the bureau in front of me and searched for a pretty bright color to match Mary's daring look. I saw small jar of crushed emerald powder. The color was stunning. I reached for it, but my hand was struck down by Ima. I let out a hiss of shock and looked up at her.

"No, dis color is all wrong for a face like yours." Ima said, shaking her head. She looked over at Mary and sighed.

"No, men do not like dat, Miss Landers." Ima said as she reached for a pale sandy colored crushed coal.

"Sure they do." I sulked quietly. Ima shook her head and smiled sadly.

"Trust me; dat Peter boy of yours will love _this _more dan anytin. Trust Ima, dearie." Ima said as she gently applied the pale coal to my eyes. I bit the side of my cheek to hold back a retort. What did she know about Peter's makeup interests? But then again, what did I know…

Ima saw my sulk and sighed. She reached for a pretty, dark brown coal. "Only a little," She said as she swept her fingers quickly across my eyelids. I grinned up at her and mouthed a thank you.

Ima finished with me ten minutes later and I jumped anxiously out of my seat and asked to be fitted into my dress. I smiled as Ima held it before me.

"It's wonderful." I heard Anne sigh from across the room. I looked over at her and smiled, knowing she couldn't help but compliment it. Finally, some socialization.

The dress was a gift from my father, for my 19th birthday. I was waiting for the proper occasion to wear it, but it never came. Now was better than never. It was the color off a baby's blush; a soft, delicate pink with a touch of creamy peach coloring. The material was soft and smooth, and although it was exquisite, bustling and extravagant, it felt like butter against my skin. Gentle lace danced around the collar and the dramatic three quarter sleeves. Pearls were sewn into the lace in an intricate design, shining like little stars on a clear night. Ima began to rapidly lace up my back as she leaned forward to whisper in my ear.

"Now dun' go doin' any funny _bis-in-nus_ with that Peter boy." Ima said with a final tug of the corset. I let out a gasp and bit my lip.

"Don't lecture me." I said as I took some deep breaths through my nose. Damn strings.

"Alright, alright; I'll leave my stair door unlocked." Ima said as she tied up the ribbon.

"Oh, look at the Wrine sisters: the epitome of exquisite beauty! Oh, Miss. Mary, Mr. Amule is a lucky suitor to have met a beauty like you!" the old maid cried, looking at the two beautiful sisters.

But Mary took no pleasure in her beauty. Her lips were a flat line across her face and her eyes were cast down.

"She doesn't _want_ to look nice. It will just make Mr. Amule fall for her ever more." I heard Anne whisper into my ear. She was standing beside me, her eyes straining with fear for her sister. I nodded slowly, understanding.

On my soft slipper feet I walked over to Mary. She was now standing against the bed post, biting her bottom lip. She slowly lifted her eyes to me and shook her head.

"You look beautiful, Nica. I'm sure Peter will be astonished tonight." Mary said quietly, with a touch of bitterness.

"I made a promise to you, and it still holds strong." I said quietly.

"What's the use of trying? My parents will…"

"Mary, please; you must place your faith in me, like you always do. I know…this is something so much bigger than us. It's something too big for a girl of your age… and it's not fair. But I will not let you walk down the isle beside your father and be placed into that man's keeping." I said with as much honesty I could muster. My hand reached out and landed on Mary's. I entwined my fingers into hers and let out a deep sigh. Mary let out a little choking noise and buried her head into my shoulder.

"_Ack_, your makeup!" one of the maids snapped.

"Oh, shut it." Mary whimpered back nasally. I put my arm around her back and lead her away from the bedpost. Anne walked over and locked elbows with Mary and kissed her forehead. The three of us slowly walked to the door, all of our minds racing. Mary's was racing with the thoughts of going downstairs to greet her possible future husband, and praying that I had a plan waiting. Anne was trying to think of a way to help her sister in case my plan failed. My mind was racing against the speed of my heart, putting the pieces of a poorly thought out but promising plan together.

We stood down in the Grand Hall about ten minutes later. The three of us were aligned in a uniform fashion, all of our faces stony and blank. I felt a hot, creeping feeling growing inside of me as I heard the clopping of horse hooves approaching outside. I took a deep breath and readied myself.

The doors opened. In walked an ancient woman with marvelous beauty and a welcoming smile, with the help of her carriage man and our butler. She was going off on a rant about the beautiful floral arrangement in the courtyard and along the iron gates. The woman was joined by an older man who had the same stunning good looks as his wife, even at his old age. His face was slightly wrinkled but kept his smile warm and soft. His six foot three frame made him look even more omnipotent than his title of Captain Whest. Finally, after the older man walked in, a glowing young face entered the hall.

The man was tall like his father and had the same perfect facial structure and sharp, hazel eyes. His lips curled up only when his eyes landed on me. His smile was not warm like his fathers, but held a bit of mystery.

The Whest family now stood directly in front of Mary, Anne and I. After Mr. Wrine introduced his daughters to our guests, I stepped forward. I lifted my eyes to Mrs. Whest, Captain Whest, and then finally to Mr. Peter Whest.

"I hope you remember our dear Veronica Landers, who has been staying with us for the past few months." Mr. Wrine said. I curtsied deeply to the family, and as I rose, I gave Peter a quick smile.

"Of course we remember dear Veronica." Mrs. Whest said as she stepped forward to embrace me. It was a bit of a shock, considering this woman was the epitome of perfect manners, and embraces were out of line, but I let out a laugh and tried to mimic the warm welcome.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss. Landers." Captain Whest said as he gently kissed my hand. I smiled back appreciatively. I remembered how this man took a liking for me, ever since I was down by the docks with Anne, and was reciting free style poems in French. Captain Whest had lived in France for fifteen years and had great respect for anyone who could speak the language without slaughtering it.

Peter stepped forward. He bowed slowly and lifted my hand to kiss it, like his father. When he kissed my hand, though, I felt a small nip at my skin: he had bit me. I jumped a little but kept the smile on my face. Peter lifted his eyes to me and cocked his left eyebrow. I stifled a laugh.

At that moment the Rosenberg family entered. Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg were the two oldest people on the entire island and were as dull as old parchment. They rarely smiled and spoke only when absolutely necessary. As the Wrine's and the Whest's stepped forward to greet the Rosenberg's, Mr. Wrine looked back at us.

"Mr. Whest, lead Miss. Anne and Miss. Veronica into the Dining Hall: we will be there momentarily." Mr. Wrine suggested in his deep, booming tone.

So, Peter took me on his left arm and Anne on his right. As we began to walk out of the Grand Hall I cast a quick gaze to Mary. She was watching us leave with wide eyes. She knew she would have to wait for Mr. Amule's arrival to leave the Great Hall. I tried to send Mary a smile, but she looked away. I felt a stab of guilt and sorrow hit me hard.

We walked in sync towards a pair of huge wood doors. We walked through the doors and entered a huge, cold marble hall that would take us into the Dining Hall. Once the doors shut Anne released herself from Peter's grip.

"You two go ahead, I won't interrupt." Anne said with a smirk. She ran ahead and didn't look back, her midnight blue dress flying behind her.

Peter looked down at me and smiled.

"It's been too long, Nica." He said, bending down to kiss my cheek.

"Don't be all cute with me."

A word about Peter. I saw him for the first time down by the docks, doing military drills. He was wearing his formal uniform and had a frighteningly serious, stony expression plastered to his face. I stopped and watched him intently as he marched up and down the docks, slowing and loosening up when his commanding officer was called away. After a while he saw me watching. Our eyes met for an instant, and he smirked at me: a crooked, half smile. I felt an urge to meet this half-smile boy.

I showed up once again the next day and waited three hours in the blazing sun for him to be excused. When he was excused, he came over, stood before me, and smiled that crooked half smile again. He took my arm and we began our walk. We strolled through town and chatted for the afternoon. I told him about my stay with the Wrine family, my home in England, my father, and my studies; his topics mimicked mine. From the moment he opened his mouth and spoke of his strict father, his subtle rebellious nature and living to respect the family tradition I couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto my face. I wasn't interested in his picture perfect family and home, his outstanding grades or dedication. I was intrigued by his stories, stories of the people who meant everything to him, stories of the military and stories his father told him about adventures on the sea. Peter was a great reader and writer, so when he told a story it sounded like a written play. He added dramatics and humor. It was wonderful. So, a couple times each week I would go down to the docks, watch him strut around like a peacock, then let him take my arm for the afternoon. Eventually we met at parties; it was bound to happen. It was almost said in stone that the most respected military Captain on the island would become bosom buddies with the richest family.

There was a bond between Peter and I that I couldn't understand. Every time I was with him I didn't feel the need to bow or act innocent and ladylike. The dresses that constricted my waist felt lightweight. I almost felt it would be allowed to remove my corset and let Peter gaze at my imperfect figure. The blazing sun felt welcoming and the stares from others didn't scathe me. I had no itchy nerves or blushes of embarrassment. I didn't worry about letting my lips fly with the dirty details of my life, all except for a few dark details I had never told anyone, not even Mary or Anne: the details of my mother.

Besides that secret, I held back nothing. Being around him gave me _freedom_: something that was a rare treat for me, even living away from home. When I turned to Mary and Anne about the matter they were skeptical. Mary told me it was odd I felt so comfortable around him, and most sturdy relationships should begin with nerves. It was "unnatural", she said, and not in a good way.

Anne was more supportive. Even at her young age, there was a gleam in her lonely grey eyes that I saw. She said that the smile on my face when my lips embraced his name was something she had never seen.

I walked to an enormous window that stretched from the floor to the high ceilings. I reached out to touch the soft curtains and let out a sigh as I gazed out the window.

"It's a beautiful night." Peter said quietly as he placed his hands on my shoulders.

"My last night….not with you, but to say that this will be the last time I will be in this hall…" I said distantly. I let out a sigh and let my forehead touch the glass window. I felt no sorrow about leaving Peter, for his father was the Captain of my ship of leave. Peter would be aboard it, nursing me and comforting me as I cried over the loss of my friends for the long way home. I felt Peter's chin rest on my right shoulder.

"A beautiful night…with a beautiful girl." Peter said. I felt his lips turn up in a smile against the skin on my neck.

"Tell me a story." I said quietly, not moving my head away from the glass.

"Once there was a strange young girl with the reddest hair to be seen…"

"Look how beautiful the sky looks against the ocean. The stars and the moon reflecting on it, like a picture perfect mirror…" I cooed absently.

"She knew how to charm the world with her impeccable manners, but inside she was born to be a liberal." Peter continued.

"Where did she live?" I inquired.

"She lived on a wonderful, mysterious island. One day, as she was taking a walk on the beaches, she saw a man with a horrible half smile guarding the island from the terrible beasties that lived in the waters. The young maiden asked this half-smile man 'What are you protecting us from?' and then half smile man turned to her and said…"

He gently pulled me back towards him. I was leaning against him, my back arched against his stomach. My eyes were still on the ocean.

"'I have orders to protect this island from the barrages of men who try to attack this place to kidnap you.' The young maiden gave him a quizzical gaze and asked, 'How many would you defeat to keep me safe?'" Peter continued, his voice becoming soft as a whisper.

"And what did the half-smile man say?" I whispered.

I felt his lips lingering against my ear and I suddenly froze. I felt his warm breath coming closer to my cheeks, and I soon felt his lips touch. He left them there for a second, waiting. I turned my body quickly, catching his lips on mine just in time. I felt a warm feeling shoot down the back of my legs and then into my stomach. I let out a small moan as he ran his hand softly against my cheek. Our lips parted and our foreheads touched. I looked into his eyes and smiled.

"The half-smile man told her that he would kill a thousand men to keep her safe. He would never stop. He would never breath a single breath without glancing around to be sure the maiden was safe; safe to be all his."

And he kissed me again, with his soft and warm lips. My mouth parted and the kiss became stronger. I leaned against the wall and tilted my head as Peter's hands held onto my sides.

At that moment we heard the doors of the hall open. I fell to the floor.

"Oh, Nica, are you alright?" I heard Mary squeal.

"What on earth?" a shaky man's voice called. I turned and saw Mary and Mr. Amule entering, with Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg, the Whest's, and the Wrine's right behind them.

"Why yes, I just wanted to get some fresh air and slipped on the marble, that's all." I said playfully. Peter helped me to my feet and gave me a quick wink. I felt the burning feeling inside of me dissolve, sadly. But a small flame was still flickering inside of me, ready to burst with the slightest touch.

Mary smiled nervously at me as Mr. Amule tightened his grip on her arm. I observed him. He was about fifteen years older then Mary, but could pass for someone half his age. He was tall with oily black hair and sharp black eyes. He was a handsome man, but had a permanent wide-eyed-naïve child look on his face. His voice was soft and strangely high for someone his age. He wore clothes appropriate for teenage boys, not gentlemen.

If he changed his ways he would be much better off, but because of his childlike nature the man was hopeless. Hopeless in all aspects except for the fact he was part of the second wealthiest bloodline in all of England, and currently, the Caribbean.

Mr. Amule gazed at me strangely, as if he were about to purchase me down at the market. It was odd to receive such a look from him, so I sent him a sharp glare. His cheeks warmed and he cast his eyes down.

"Well, let's not dawdle: inside, everyone!" Mrs. Wrine said cheerfully. We all began to shuffle towards the doors of the Dining Hall. Peter stay close to my side. I pulled him towards Mary and Mr. Amule, and I was soon walking beside Mary. She lifted her eyes to me and I sent her a very confident smile. Finally, I was ready for this night to begin, with a completed plan mapped out in my mind.


End file.
